


Going Out With A Bang

by diamondHead



Series: FEOA [1]
Category: Doom (Video Games)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, F/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23363068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diamondHead/pseuds/diamondHead
Summary: It's porn without plot but it still has worldbuilding cause I can't help myself.
Relationships: Doom Slayer/Reader
Series: FEOA [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1680370
Comments: 2
Kudos: 59





	Going Out With A Bang

**Author's Note:**

> I really want someone who is better at writing PWP to do Doomguy justice cause my patented masochism is really hard to shake off when I'm trying to write any kind of sex.  
> (Also for the Icon of Sin)  
> (And for the Khan Makyr)  
> I'll still write more I just don't know when.  
> Enjoy y'all

You didn't know his name. You couldn't see his face. But you could feel his nature. He had come into your home, slaughtering your brothers and sisters, ripping apart the creatures you had thought were gods. No matter how many there were, none would survive his passing. The warm, golden glow of your unseen benefactor could not save you. It could not stop him. Nothing could stop him.  
You look around at the prostrate bodies of your fellow humans, weak and exhausted from their times of penitence. No one was good enough to be a saint and no one was good enough to be a sinner. You all had to suffer. You were meant to suffer. It seemed that you were meant to suffer more than the rest.

  
The explosions shattered the prayer circle, staining the metallic floors with blood and guts. You felt the impact in your right arm. Your sleeve had caught on fire. You could feel the searing pain eat its way up to your shoulder. Seconds ticked by and the death you were waiting for approached you with heavy steps. The fire was now close to your hair. Too close. The thought of such a slow and torturous death and the slow cadence of the footsteps were making your heart ache with fear. In the end, when you scrambled up to your knees and tore the burning fabric off of your body, you knew that the fault was entirely yours. Fate had killed your comrades, but your death would be brought by your own weakness.

  
Your right arm was useless now. It hung limply to your side, offering its blistering skin and boiling blood to your tired eyes. The smoke, smelling of burning flesh and cloth stung your eyes and you blinked wildly in an attempt to clear your vision of tears. He was there, behind you, you could feel it in your bones and under your skin.

  
Footsteps echoed around you. For a split second, all of the adrenaline your cells could hope to produce shot through your body, and you could almost stand up. Pain shot through your right leg and you fell back to your knees, gritting your teeth as the impact shook you to your core. Your body fell forward and despite your best efforts, you were unable to stop its descent with one arm alone. You remained there, half of your face in a pool of blood and eyes half-shut. You could only hope now. You could only pray.

  
You watched him walk by from under your eyelashes, focused on your breath and trying your best not to inhale any blood. A pressure on the right side of your body, under your ribs, distracted you for a few seconds but the blood you immediately inhaled quickly brought you back. Before you could start panicking however, you were nudged into a new position, on your back. Your left hand automatically moved to wipe the blood from your face and you sighed as the gesture only served to spread the sticky liquid to places it hadn't managed to cover on its own. You wiped your hand on your chest, idly noting that you had ripped more fabric than you had meant to in your hurry to get rid of the burning sleeve. You had exposed half of your torso in the process, half that was now covered in rapidly cooling blood.

  
He crouched down by your side, watching silently from the safety of his helmet. You did your best to avoid looking at his face, for fear of catching a glimpse at what he truly was. So, you kept your head away from him and strained your eyes so you could still observe every move he made. He set down a gun that was almost half your height, handling the deadly hunk of metal like it was some kind of fine china. You blinked several times, feeling tears of exhaustion escape the corners of your eyes. He could crush you easily, wouldn't even need to make any effort to do it. One of his hands started moving towards you and your breathing immediately became laboured, shaking your entire body with every exhale and every inhale. You could almost feel the cold armour taking a hold of your neck and squeezing until the whole thing collapsed into itself. You couldn't bear to see it. You closed your eyes tightly, gritting your teeth until your gums hurt.

  
The first thing that struck you was the warmth. The armour was not cold, it was not cool, it was not lukewarm, it was scorching hot against your wet skin. It took you a good 40 seconds to realise that the temperature wasn't the only thing you had been wrong about, the place he had chosen to go for took you by surprise as well. He poked at your exposed breast again, making your head snap towards him before you could think twice about it. You stared at the helmet currently focused on your chest, glancing down when you felt another poke. He let it jiggle and poked you again. And again. And again. Finally, you forced your left arm up and wrapped your hand around the poking finger. He froze.

  
A smile formed on your dirty face, more genuine than any emotion you had felt since being brought to repent. You didn't understand why you were smiling, not really. Some fogged-up, distant part of your brain knew, but you were hardly in a position to reach that far. So you just smiled and guided his hand into cupping your breast instead of that weird poking he was doing. He was pretty stiff at first, which affirmed your belief that you could not physically move him unless he wanted you to move him. The size difference was making things quite difficult. His one hand spanned almost the entirety of your upper body, which made your thoughts turn to the possibility of him crushing your rib-cage by mistake. The idea gave you a shot of much needed adrenaline and you used your healthy arm to let him know you wanted to move. Well, that was the plan at least. You only managed to coax your legs into a slightly more *alive* position by elevating your knees a few inches about the floor. The effort of that small motion caused your chest to tighten and your breath to come out in strained gasps, like you had just got done running a marathon. Or running at all. Once you were pleased with your new position, you turned your attention back to him, a slight, tired smile still tugging at your lips. You waggled your eyebrows at the helmet, hoping that it would be enough to translate your intentions. It was.

  
He moved to kneel between your legs in a surprisingly fluent motion. You sighed in relief and let your legs fall. Finally, your lungs stopped straining and your gasping breaths became almost silent wheezes. You thought that once he got the idea he would get right into it. To a degree, you were hoping for that to happen. The silence that stretched between you didn't last too long, mostly because you didn't want it to last long. Your legs twitched as you tried to move to look at him, but not much else in your position changed. He still didn't move. You huffed and blinked, feeling the dryness of your mouth even as you attempted to speak. Only an incoherent groan escaped your lips. Thankfully, the sound seemed to have had some meaning in his head, as his large hands finally grasped your thighs, pulling them up before moving to grab your hips instead. Another groan escaped you, this time of pain. Even when he set you down on top of his thighs, your lower body remained elevated, putting considerable strain on your spine. You tried to wiggle yourself in a more comfortable position but you could no longer move. Your hips especially, were frozen in place, your pelvis glued to his abdomen. This left your head in a difficult position, a dull pain at the top of your skull where you had to balance yourself to get the pressure off your spine. This limited your field of view greatly, so much so that you had to strain your eyes to see the top of his helmet despite his considerable size. A strange sound echoed through the room, strange enough to excite you but not strange enough that you couldn't guess what was coming. The stinging pain of your clothing being torn off of your hips was enough of a clue. You knew that your bodies weren't meant to fit together. You knew that the chance of being literally fucked to death was not only possible but probable in this situation. You were okay with that. You smiled at nothing in particular, but you could not stop yourself from wheezing in pain at the first thrust. His cock was about the size of your arm if you had to guess, maybe thicker. Your muscles tensed up despite your best efforts, which made everything even more painful. Once again, you got one of those precious adrenaline shots and your left hand moved down your body to rub at your clit. You wheezed again, doing your best to focus on relaxing.

  
Maybe you passed out at some point.

  
When your eyes opened once again, your thighs were pressed against your limp arms and your knees were touching the floor to the sides of your head. You felt like your body was ready to burst, and looking down your body revealed a worrying indentation. Your eyes crawled back up slowly and focused on his face, for the first time looking past the foggy glass of the helmet to the man within. He thrust into you and the motion knocked the breath out of you. You reached your left hand around his neck, grasping for some support, any kind of support. Despite your desperate attempts your nails and fingers slid off the bulky armour instantly. The thrusts continued and with each passing second your breathing became harsher and harsher. You wanted to reach out again, try and release some of the pressure on your lungs, but a coughing fit overtook your body.

  
Everything stopped. Your breathing stopped. Your heartbeat stopped. Thankfully, he stopped too, buried so deep in that you thought you could almost feel him at the back of your throat.

  
You smiled. You had fulfilled your penance.


End file.
